


33

by waveydnp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: A decade of unwavering commitment doesn’t always work to soothe the ragged edges of Dan’s abandonment issues, but ithasgiven him the means to cope. It’s given him the fortitude not to give in to his brain’s more irrational fears.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 34
Kudos: 286





	33

Dan wakes up when Phil wakes up. The bed creaks as it releases Phil’s weight and he’s off to the toilet. Dan can hear his footsteps padding heavily out of the room, a half woken shuffle against the carpet.

He rolls onto his back, eyes still closed, listening to the quiet oscillations of the fan and wondering if it’s worth going back to sleep when he knows he’ll only wake again when Phil crawls back into bed. It must be early; the light in the room is thin and grey and the world still feels like the kind of quiet that belongs to dreams. He arches his back into a stretch, breathes out purposefully, takes stock of the way his body feels heavy and warm and rested and his mind is at ease in a way it only ever is when he isn’t fully awake.

Phil’s feet are on the carpet again, and the mattress dips as it accepts him back into its embrace. Dan accepts him too, rolling into the long body beside him, curling up against the soft cool skin of Phil’s chest. Phil slips his arm under Dan’s neck and curls it around his shoulder, possessive in a passive way that still makes Dan feel like a teenager.

It was too hot for cuddles when they went to bed, but morning is always more gentle, and the fan dusts them with a cool breeze that lends itself nicely to pressing their half naked bodies together, to folding into each other, holding each other as they drift back to sleep.

-

Dan wakes up for real to the scratch of stubble against his forehead. He opens his eyes and Phil’s already awake, laid there holding Dan like he’s got nothing to do that’s more important than this. Dan hooks a leg around Phil’s thigh and holds on tighter.

Phil kisses Dan where his unshaven chin had been rubbing a moment ago, and Dan tilts his head to catch Phil’s mouth before he pulls away. Morning kisses like this are a rare and special thing. It isn’t often that Dan can tempt Phil into forgetting that they both have bad breath and unbrushed teeth, but he almost always tries. The truth is that he actually likes that. He likes Phil’s bad breath. He likes the dark circles under his eyes and the persistent patch of grey at his temples and the soft give of flesh under his belly button. He likes the patchwork of bruises Phil always seems to have bloomed across his thighs and shins because he’s a peach of a man who manages to walk into more sharp corners than he avoids.

Their lips smack into the quiet of their bedroom as Phil pulls away. It’s too soon. Always too soon.

“I’m hungry,” he says.

Dan yawns. “There’s a snack right here for you.” He rolls his hips, pressing his crotch against Phil’s leg. He’s completely soft, but Phil could rectify that if he chose to take the bait.

He doesn’t. He leans in and bites Dan’s cheek and says, “Rain check.”

Dan lets him get up though he feels the urge not to. Part of him wants to cling. Sometimes that happens, sometimes for reasons Dan doesn’t understand, if there even are any. A decade of unwavering commitment doesn’t always work to soothe the ragged edges of Dan’s abandonment issues, but it _has_ given him the means to cope. It’s given him the fortitude not to give in to his brain’s more irrational fears. Not always, anyway. Besides, Phil’s just going to take a shower. He’s not really leaving.

Dan rolls out of bed and collects a t-shirt of Phil’s off the floor. He pulls it on, and that’s enough. It’s enough to remind his insecurities that Phil is his and their lives are as perfectly woven together as they could possibly be.

The air in the bathroom is already humid and thick when he goes to brush his teeth, Phil’s pants and pj bottoms lying in a heap on the floor. He draws a sad face in the fog on the mirror and spits foam into the sink and collects Phil’s laundry on his way out.

He puts the kettle on, pulling two mugs from the cupboard, and by the time Phil joins him in the kitchen with his damp hair and his morning eyes, there’s a coffee with his name on it: milk and two sugars, another constant in life that Dan takes a private comfort in knowing. Even if he genuinely wishes Phil would cut back a little on the sweetness.

Phil takes a grateful sip that momentarily fogs his glasses, then smiles at Dan, that open happy thing that is impossible for Dan not to return, even on a morning when he feels a bit wonky on the inside.

“What?” Dan asks.

Phil shrugs, putting his coffee down on the counter absentmindedly enough that some of it spills over the rim of the mug and onto the counter. It’s such a common occurrence that Dan doesn’t even bother taking the piss anymore.

“You look cute today,” Phil says, reaching out and touching Dan’s hip.

“Today.”

Phil smiles again, leaning in and kissing Dan’s forehead before making his way over to the fridge.

Dan cleans coffee off the counter while Phil makes toast for both of them.

-

Their plates hold nothing but crumbs where they’ve been placed on the coffee table. The tv is on but neither of them are paying attention to it. They’ve both got their laptops out.

“What’s on your agenda today?” Phil asks.

“Writing,” is Dan’s reply. As it is every day. Though he has a feeling he’s not going to be as productive today as he’d like. The not-quite-right feeling in his chest is only growing more settled as the morning passes by. “Might go for a run.”

Phil looks out the window. “Looks like it’s gonna rain.”

He’s right. The sky is a wash of grey, but Dan shrugs, staring at the google doc he’s had open for an hour and added exactly one sentence to. He hasn’t learned to love the pain of exercise yet, but he can’t deny the immediate positive effect it always has on his state of mind. “Might need it.”

In his periphery he sees Phil lift his head and look over.

“You okay?”

Dan shrugs again.

Phil shuts his laptop, then plucks Dan’s off his legs and places it off to the side.

“Oi,” Dan says with absolutely zero conviction, because Phil is already pulling him into his lap and he’s definitely not going to complain about that. If he’s honest, it’s all he really wants right now: to be close, to be coddled just a little.

Phil pushes Dan’s hair off his forehead. It’s gotten proper long by now, his last haircut so far in the past that he can’t even remember it. He hates the way it looks, but loves the way Phil can’t seem to keep his fingers out of it whenever they’re within reach.

Dan pushes Phil’s glasses up into his quiff so he can get a better look at him, at the blue eyes lined with gentle creases, evidence of thirty three years worth of crinkly smiles. He sweeps the pads of his thumbs under Phil’s eyes before leaning down to kiss him.

“Are you actually alright?” Phil asks. “Do we need to have a mental health day?”

Dan presses his forehead to Phil’s. “No. Just tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

“Good. I’m going for a run.”

“Okay.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Phil makes a pained noise. “Zoom appointment with the accountant.”

“Oh fuck. Do I need to be here for that?”

“I think I can manage.”

Dan’s heart melts. Phil hates phone calls and meetings and dealing with serious business logistics. They both do, but for Phil it lives in that place where irrational fears go to latch on and spread their roots.

“I can run later,” Dan says.

Phil shakes his head. “You should go before it rains.”

Dan opens his mouth for more protesting, but Phil kisses him before he can get the words out. “It’s fine,” he murmurs. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll bring you back Starbucks,” Dan promises. “Have you seen my mask?”

“It’s in the dryer.”

Dan looks down at him in awe. “When did you get so good at being an adult?”

“It’s a fluke,” Phil assures him. “I still want you to bring me back a biscuit with the coffee. And I forgot to put fabric softener in that last load of laundry so everything’s gonna be all staticy.”

“That’s more like it.” Dan pulls Phil’s glasses back down onto his face and leans in to kiss the tip of his nose before climbing off his lap. “See you later?”

Phil nods, already opening his laptop back up. “Later.”

“Love you.”

Phil glances up, a look of gentle surprise on his face. “Love you too.”

Twice in the span of five minutes. Dan tucks the warmth of that away, along with the knowledge that if he asked, Phil would offer him the sentiment a third and fourth and fifth time.

Dan won’t ask, though. He doesn’t need to.


End file.
